Holding Her and Loving You
by Lillie Bell
Summary: Darien's life was the epitome of routine. Nothing had majorly changed in his life in four years. That is, until a coffee house waitress turns his world upside down and opens his eyes to love he'd never known.


**Holding Her and Loving You**

**Lillie Bell**

* * *

His finger traced the handle of the mug as he watched the steam rise from the brown pool of coffee. It was a cream-colored mug, perhaps white once but now stained by the multiple refills of the dark liquid that fueled him. The coffee was black, much like his heart, crude and unsweetened. His sleepless nights once fed his addiction. But the coffee was no longer the drug he needed: instead it had become a means to an end. And staying awake was not the only purpose it served.

Memories surfaced and he quickly diverted his attention. His blue eyes surveyed the coffee shop from the quiet corner he had secured for himself. Dark, red velvet drapes hung behind his shoulder. The fabric snagged against his wool blazer occasionally, pressing upon the invisible weight lingering on him. His wooden chair creaked with the smallest movement and the table at his knees had wobbled when he first put the mug down. His paper, still in the plastic wrapping, lay next to the off-white cup. The nook he had chosen had poor lighting to read it by, and the daily drivel was hardly his concern today.

Outside of his niche, the coffee shop burst with light. The red drapes gave a warm, inviting appeal to the floor-to-ceiling windows. The dark blue and green couches beneath looked enticingly comfortable. These were offset by an eclectic set of low sitting tables bought from junkyards and jazzed up by local artists. There was art on the walls of all different varieties and mediums attributed to people he had never known existed. Of course, he hadn't known the coffee shop existed until today either.

The shop was fairly empty for mid-morning, certainly more so than the regular shop he visited. He had little to keep his mind from wandering and his eyes settled once more on the cup of coffee in front of him. He closed his eyes, pressing a cool hand to his temple before rubbing his brow. He looked outside, but the condensation on the windows hid the outside world from him.

She was late. He tried to hate her for it, tried to believe it was intentional. He wanted to think she was reveling in the fact that she was making him wait—making him suffer before she made her grand entrance. The waiting was terrible, but he could not hate her for it. She was late for everything and it had always been something he had thought endearing. Even now, it was almost comforting to think things hadn't changed.

He closed his eyes as his throat tightened. He reached for the cup of coffee but the handle felt like it weighed three tons. He was a fool to even pretend nothing had changed. He swallowed against his parched throat, drawing in every ounce of pain it brought him. Every ounce he deserved. His finger let go of the handle and pressed into his hair, peeling the strands back from his forehead. He was a horrible, horrible fool.

His eyes rested on the coffee once more. He scowled at it as though it had caused all the problems in his life. His sleeplessness had led to his need for caffeine, which had led to his love for the coffee house three blocks away, which had led to him meeting her. And since he could not blame her, and there was too much blame for just himself, the coffee became a major culprit.

He closed his eyes, trying to cope with his crazy thoughts. In the darkened nook where he could be alone with his thoughts, with his guilt, he could not stop the memories from surfacing once again. If he was honest with himself, he would say that she instigated it all. But he knew she didn't have an ounce of malice in her heart, so he could never blame her. Even if she had approached him first, he was the one who had led them too far.

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"There's a new pot of the house blend about to be done brewing," a feminine voice spoke to him. He barely acknowledged the voice, completely engrossed in the financial news of the day. His newspaper was spread a few inches from his face, hiding him from whoever had spoken. He didn't pay it much mind, truly thinking that she was speaking to someone near him.

A finger poked at his paper; he had been holding it quite taut and the simple jab resulted in a large hole being burrowed through the column he was heavily focused upon. He started with a jerk at the sudden appendage leering at him where not a second before a paragraph was pronouncing a review of the Asian financial markets. Slowly he lowered the paper, his blue eyes sparkling with slight frustration and curiosity. None of the waitresses had ever been so adamant about getting his attention.

As the grey and black of the paper transitioned to the oranges and yellows of the coffee house, he honed in on the slowly revealed countenance of the waitress who had disturbed him. Her long, silky blonde hair was what he saw first. Her sparkling blue eyes were looking a bit guilty for destroying his paper. Her cheeks were flushed with embarrassment and quite possibly a bit of excitement. As he dropped the last section of his paper, her agile tongue snuck out and licked her lips. Though he didn't know it then, he could nearly taste her raspberry lip gloss upon his lips remembering her nervous gesture at their first meeting. His eyes had widened as he noticed the blonde hair, which he had expected to stop near her shoulder or possibly at mid back, trailed to just below her hips. The ends were curled slightly, cascading down her sides as she stood to her full height—barely five feet

Her small mouth opened and she spoke softly as her eyes looked to the ground. "Um, if you want," she made a small motion towards his half-filled coffee cup, "we're brewing up a new pot. Well, it's probably done by now." She chuckled lamely as her hand ran up and down her arm to quell her discomfort. "But, I can get you a fresh cup if you'd like?" She smiled gently and met his gaze, if a bit shyly.

She had blushed as he had openly stared at her. Then what she had said reached him and he nodded, unable to croak out a proper response. She lingered for a second more and he felt his chest constrict from her proximity before she gave a half-smile and turned away.

His mouth went dry and he reached for the coffee mug, only then realizing she had taken it with her. He gasped, only just realizing he had been holding his breath. He closed his eyes and saw that little half-smile that had made his heart skip a beat. He swallowed against his scratchy throat. Opening his eyes, he found a steaming cup of coffee in front of him. The blonde smiled down on him, plucking out the chair across from him and plunking down on its plushy surface.

"Now don't drink it just yet," she said shaking her pointer finger at him like a mother scolding a child. "It's super fresh. I don't think the machine was quite done dripping when I filled it." She had mistaken his silence for confusion when in truth he was desperately trying to swallow down the nervousness that crawled across his skin like a rash. Her nail, broken or bitten to a stub, pointed down into the dark liquid below. He couldn't help but notice they were not even painted. "It's hot so don't burn yourself and sue us for it later."

He nodded dumbly. There were so many strange and new emotions going through him. He felt an acute nervousness, and he found himself resorting to threading and unthreading the tips of his fingers together as one knee bounced. He had never been one for nervous tics but he felt as though he were having an attack. He was full of giddy energy with no way other than fidgeting to release it. He was all too aware of her beauty. It had stunned him at first but now, with her sitting so near, it was beginning to have a different effect. It had been a long time since he had felt a powerful attraction to someone, and never had it been as extreme as it was for this woman. There were only the barest touches of make-up on her face. She wore a bit of foundation for shine and some light pink eye shadow that enhanced her bright blue eyes. He had never studied a woman's make-up before, but the subtle touches made his heart race.

The oversized men's button-down shirt looked comical on her, nearly engulfing her small frame. The sleeves were folded past her elbows, exposing thin arms and delicate hands. He noted the gold watch loosely falling down her wrist as she brought her hands to rest under her chin. He blushed as he met her curious gaze. There was no way to hide the fact that he had been openly staring. He chuckled nervously, trying to quell the emotional turmoil within him. Her soft laughter joined his and he fought to keep his mind focused.

"I'm sorry about ripping your paper."

"It's okay."

Her eyes widened and he suddenly wondered if there was something on his face. Horror filled him, though he couldn't understand why her opinion of him should matter. His hand rose to touch his chin as she exclaimed. "Two words!"

He stared at the finger pointing at him. "What?"

"You spoke two words. I was about to think you were mute."

Her eyes gleamed mischievously and he could read her intentions. He smiled despite himself. He had never really enjoyed being teased, but for some reason it was different with her.

"Well," she stood as the bell rang, announcing another customer, "be careful with that coffee. Next time, I'll try something less abrasive to get your attention." She winked at him before turning and walking to the counter at the other end of the shop.

Darien closed his eyes, trying to remove the heat that had flooded his cheeks at her flirtation. His eyes trailed to his left hand, making sure that his wedding bad was still there. Instead of filling him with purpose, the gold felt weighted against his skin. He slid his hand off the table, not understanding why he suddenly felt so confined by the yellow band.

------------

No matter how many times he saw her in the subsequent weeks—eventually learning her name was Serena—the feelings that had plagued him at their first meeting persisted. He was still nervous and giddy in her presence. He had stopped staring at her openly, content to sneak slanted glances at her. He didn't even notice she was stealing his attention until he discovered that his mind was not focused on the dull text of the paper but on Serena's bouncing blonde hair.

He would shake his head at those moments, conjuring up an image of his wife in his mind. But after knowing Serena for a few weeks, he was starting to compare the two women. Whenever he would imagine his wife of the last eleven years, he could only think how she didn't begin to compare to Serena. They were nearly opposites really. His wife was poised, collected, manicured. They had grown up together and had always loved each other. As they had aged, he had thought they had grown into a better fit. But Serena had made him question that idea.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked as she plunked down with a glass of water.

Darien swallowed, trying to think of something other than the stunning differences between the two women. "My anniversary is coming up," he supplied. It wasn't a total lie, though the response was probably brought on by his inner conscience. Even he had started to see his thoughts taking a dangerously adulterous turn lately. His feelings had not changed for his wife, but Serena made him feel things he never had before.

He became instantly aware of the silence that settled between them. Serena gently sipped at her water, not looking at him directly. "What are your plans for tonight? Isn't Friday your karaoke night?"

She perked up a bit, smiling languidly at him. "No karaoke tonight! My friend invited me to a big party downtown. It's in the Remus district, but it should be pretty safe." He could tell she wasn't nearly as convinced as she was trying to sound.

"Is this a girl or guy friend inviting you?"

If she thought his question odd, it wasn't obvious as she quickly responded. "Guy." She paused for a minute. "You don't think he has something else in mind? I thought we were just friends."

"Guys have strange definitions of 'just friends.'" He couldn't look at her when he said it. Even he didn't know what he would classify Serena as. Infatuation and untouchable immediately came to mind. If he could see past the intense desire he had for her perhaps he could call her a friend. Then again, some guys would have called that the perfect recipe for a friend.

She stood as someone walked in, jingling the bell. On impulse, he reached for her wrist to stop her for a moment. He wasn't aware he was writing his phone number on a piece of paper until he was placing it in her hand. He stood, filled with awkward energy and could swear his palms were starting to sweat. He didn't look her in the eye.

"Call me. In case things get out of hand. I'll drive you home—no questions asked."

She watched him for a moment before nodding. He gathered his things and left, distinctly feeling the intensity of her gaze heating his skin. He didn't bother to throw his jacket on once he got outside in the cold air.

------------

He wrung his hands as he leaned forward. She had just stepped into the door in sweats. He couldn't help but wonder if her carelessness was deliberate. She should have known that he could see through the layers of baggy clothing to the soft skin he had spent the last few months memorizing at every opportunity. Something about her negligence, her obvious attempt to ward him off by making herself as unattractive as possible, made the desire inside him uncoil and warm him. Immediately he felt an equal burn of shame in his throat that made his eyes water. He truly was a horrible man.

He closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against the hands across his lap. He felt her move toward him, though she was still across the shop. He was acutely aware of every step she took. He could already smell her perfume in the air, taste the sweetness of her lip gloss on his tongue, and feel the softness of her skin beneath his fingers. He clenched his hands, hating himself for what he was.

She pulled the chair out across from him, its wooden legs dragging against the floor. The grating sound echoed in his mind. He couldn't stand her being there, knowing how much it hurt not to touch her, yet knowing that touching her would hurt Raye. God, but he was a vile monster.

"I love her," he confessed, his voice breaking from the strain.

"But you're not _in_ love with her."

He let out a muffled cry, pressing his hand against his mouth as he tried to suppress his tears. She had said this once before to him, too.

------------

"Is that your phone?" Raye asked. Her voice grated with sleep and her brown eyes opened lazily in the dark. She'd had a few too many glasses of wine at the banquet that night.

Darien groaned, rolling out of bed, wondering what someone could need at this hour. He grabbed the ringing phone off the nightstand and quickly walked out of the bedroom. He closed the door as he answered, watching Raye close her eyes as she nestled back into the pillows.

"Hello?"

"Darien?"

"Serena?"

She giggled a bit mindlessly. He bit into his cheek, protectiveness and worry filling his chest. "Are you drunk?"

She laughed again. "You know what?" She spoke, ignoring whatever question he had asked. "You were right. Chuck took me to this party and gave me this funny tasting drink. I didn't want it so, you know what he did?" She waited a moment; there was a shift in the phone and a murmured slur. "Do you know what he did?" she asked accusingly.

Darien had already fished out a shirt and his keys by the time she asked him again. "No," he pulled the shirt over his head, "what did he do to you?"

"He poured the thing on me!" she shouted forcing Darien to move the phone from his ear. "So, now I am soaked in who knows what. AND" she said emphatically and he could imagine her swaying with her arms wide. "I'm wearing a white dress."

He stepped outside, locking the door to the house before opening his car door. He was suddenly worried when she went completely silent. "Serena?" he asked as he started up the car.

"It used to be white," she sobbed quietly and he breathed a sigh of relief knowing she hadn't passed out.

"Where are you?"

There was a lot of shuffling before she answered. "The sign says Hamilton."

"Is it on the left or right?"

"No, the right sign is Eighth."

Darien cursed. She was on the other side of downtown. "Is it well lit?"

"I can't see any stars," she mused. "Oh, look! The moon is pretty tonight."

"Okay," he spoke as if he were talking to a child. "You stay there and watch the moon, make sure it doesn't go anywhere." Serena giggled and murmured something unintelligible. "I'm coming to pick you up."

It took nearly half an hour for him to get into downtown and another ten minutes to circle the block and find her. She was hunched over in a corner of the outside of a building, shaking. It had just started to drizzle and she had taken shelter. He grabbed a blanket from the back of the car.

"Come on, Serena," he coaxed, holding his hand out to her. He blushed as she stood. The front of her dress was clinging against her. He could see the beads of fresh rain rolling down her chest and into the low neckline of her dress. He blushed as he looked at her chest, exposed by the drink that had made the fabric transparent. Quickly he wrapped her in the blanket. He was a bit too forceful, however, and she tipped forward.

He quickly caught his breath as she pressed up against him. The blanket had fallen away and the wet dress soaked through his thin T-shirt. He could feel her upper body pressed against him, her legs tangled within his own as their thighs pressed together. He was desperately trying to regulate his breathing when she tossed her head, turning toward him. Her mouth pressed against his neck as she giggled and swayed. Her breath sent coils of heat rolling through his lower back and he nearly tripped from the desire flaming through his body.

"Darien," she cooed, an absent hand pressing through the hair at the nape of his neck. "Have I ever told you how incredibly handsome you are?"

He looked at her, taking in her glazed eyes and limp body. The hand at the back of his neck pulled him closer. He was within an inch of her lips when he realized what he was doing. Quickly, he wrapped her up in the blanket, picked her up, and strode to the car. He loaded her into the passenger seat, buckling her in extra-tight, before closing the door. He took his time walking around the car, pausing at the trunk to breathe in the cold night air. The hair on his skin rose from the small drizzle coating it. Once he felt in control of himself, he stepped into the driver's seat and began driving.

"You should lay off the lattes for a while," he joked as he helped her climb the last stair to her apartment. It would be his luck that the elevator was out and she lived on the fifth floor. He pulled her to the numbered door she directed him to.

"Do you have your keys?"

She blinked at him and he groaned thinking of the flights of stairs he would have to climb if she'd left her keys in the car. She giggled then poked his chest.

"I never carry my keys." She stumbled to the door and reached up over the ledge. On the tip of her toes, she could barely reach the top. She swayed and nearly fell over. He grabbed her, holding her to him while reaching about the doorframe for the keys. He opened the door and led her inside.

"It's dangerous to leave your keys out there. Anyone can get in." He said as he switched on the light. He was shocked by the apartment. In a corner was a keyboard with a microphone. A small TV stood close to it with a couch that looked like it was from a junk store. What surprised him the most, however, was the amount of clothing everywhere. He blushed, distinctly noting the silk underwear on the couch's arm. There was a bra hanging from a lamp over the keyboard. Pants and shirts were strewn about everywhere.

"Hey," Serena bumped him with her hip. He looked down at her and blushed as she poked at him. That teasing light was in her eyes. "Are you looking at my underwear?"

He was flustered and let out a few syllables of some incoherent response. She giggled once again. He backed away from her and she followed until his back was against the closed door. He gulped, cursing at the heat running through his veins. She was sending him on a roller coaster of desire that threatened to unravel the world he had always known. Before Serena, he had been content with what he knew. After meeting her, nothing in his life was enough. She had shown him a part of life he didn't know existed.

She pressed against him, lowering one of the straps of her dress. "Wanna see which ones I'm wearing tonight?" Then she giggled at her own forwardness.

"Serena," he groaned, smelling her hair as it wrapped around her. She had chosen a stronger perfume for tonight, too. Something spicy that was meant to keep a man interested, and Darien was not immune. He reached for her arms, grabbing them as they rubbed against his chest. "I'm married."

She rose from his chest, her eyes boring into his. She looked at him so seriously, so intently, he was worried. He had never seen such a focused look on her face. Her lips pressed into a frown, making her lower lip purse outward. He fought the urge to kiss her, desperately holding onto the little amount of control he had left. Her eyebrows turned down as if she were angry.

"I have never seen a married man look so lonely." He stared at her, not understanding. He had relaxed his hold on her arms and she slipped her hand up to press against his cheek. "Why doesn't she ever come with you to the coffee shop?"

"She's never really liked them."

"Do you do anything together?"

"Of course we do. We go to banquets together and she helps organize fundraisers at the hospital."

Serena rolled her eyes. "Do you go out? Like on dates?"

"Dates?"

"Yeah, like go to the movies or to dinner, or just stroll around aimlessly enjoying each other's company?"

"We've never really done anything like that. We've known each other since we were kids."

"Oh, childhood sweethearts?"

"I guess."

"See? You don't even know." She sighed. Her crystal blue eyes met his. In them he saw an emotion he couldn't name, but felt it in his core as it resonated within him as well. "Does she make your heart skip a beat when you first see her? Do you feel nervous when you're around her?" She leaned forward but Darien hardly noticed as he focused on her words. He was amazed at how well they described how he felt around her.

"Do you feel like one minute you're having a decent conversation and suddenly you want to touch her, everywhere?" She stood on the tips of her toes, pressing her body against his as she whispered in his ears. "Do you sometimes think about what you'll do to her once you get her alone?"

He could feel her shaky breath against his ear. He reeled knowing she felt as aggravated by their close proximity as he did. He listened to her words, too, and closed his eyes as she continued, her lips pressing against his neck.

"That's what love is, Darien. It's when you can't go ten minutes without thinking about someone or wanting to be with them. It's how even when you're with them, you want to be closer than possible. And when you have to leave them, you're lost."

Sometime during her speech he had pulled her closer, soaking in her words and her body. His face was nestled in her neck, listening to her voice reverberate through her vocal chords and into his ear. He held her tightly, unable to let go as the last vestiges of his control fell away.

"I love my wife," he said softly, nearly sobbing.

"Ah, but Darien," she spoke, hugging him to her as he broke down. "That does not mean you are in love with her."

She had held him as the world he knew shattered around him. And when he reached for her, she did not flinch away. When he tilted her back and pressed his lips to hers, tasting the sweet gloss upon her lips, she sighed into his mouth. And that night after they made love, she whispered the words he hadn't heard a woman tell him in nearly four years.

"I love you."

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He swallowed the sickening feeling churning in his stomach. His hand reached for his coffee and he drank down the cool liquid. It tasted horribly bitter and he was glad for it. It had been years since his masochism had surfaced and it seemed as appropriate a time as any.

"Darien Shields," she spoke his name slowly, pronouncing each syllable. He glanced at her but she was looking down at one of the legs of the wobbly table. She swallowed and for the first time he noticed the sheen of tears in her eyes. He fought down the wave of concern and sympathy, fought desperately to keep his hand by his side. He knew the minute he touched her, even to comfort her, he would not leave her. And that's what he needed to do. He should have never engaged in this affair, let alone allowed himself to fall in love. They had both deluded themselves thinking they could hide everything forever and it never become a problem.

Serena gasped, and he immediately turned his attention to her. Tears fell down her cheeks, reddening them. Even with red-rimmed eyes and shaking lips he thought she was beautiful. His heart ached as he watched hers breaking before him.

"Why did you have to be Raye's husband?" she cried. Her hand came up and pressed against her lips as she hiccuped. She shook her head, trying to dispel the tears but they only came harder.

"Why did you have to be her friend?" he whispered, not having an answer to her question. He felt his throat constrict as he fended off his own tears.

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The night before, Raye had hosted a large party for her friend's first album release. It was the most excited he'd seen her in a long while and he tried to be as helpful as possible without getting in her way. He spent most of the afternoon hanging streamers and setting up the small stage. He had learned from Serena how to test sound equipment and Raye was terribly pleased when he took over this role in setting up for the party.

The rented room quickly filled as the guests arrived. The guest of honor was set to arrive an hour later so that she would be greeted with a great amount of applause. The time was drawing near and he had long since lost sight of Raye. She would show up at his side, grab his arm, and squeeze as she leaned against her cane to speak with him. He had long since stopped bending down for her as she despised the blatant acknowledgement of her disability.

"Darien," she appeared again, pulling at the sleeve of his casual green sweater. She leaned against him as she pulled her cane away from someone's legs. He swayed a bit under her sudden weight, but she waived off his hands when he went to steady her. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement. "Serenity is about to arrive. Could you handle dimming the lights so that we can give her a real entrance?"

He smiled and nodded, glad to see her acting as she had before the accident. He rested his hand on her lower back as someone scooted by them, pressing her against him. She smiled slightly up at him, nodding in his direction before disappearing into the crowd. Her missing warmth left his side cold and he was suddenly struck with the contrast between her and Serena. Serena always held closely to him, her warmth soaking into his side. He shook his head free of his thoughts, making his way quickly to the light switch.

The crowd moved towards the door, fanning out in a semicircle with a small path left to allow Serenity to walk to the stage. Darien saw a familiar manicured hand wave above the crowd and cut the lights. She had worn the purple nail polish tonight to match the eggplant-colored suit wrapped around her body.

The door opened, the night providing very limited light as the vocalist stepped into the room. As the door closed behind her, Darien flipped the switch, illuminating the shyly smiling form of the singer.

Immediately, his stomach fell to his feet. At the front of the room, the small, lithe body of Serena stood. Her thick blond hair was piled on top of her head. Her bangs, normally parted in the middle, flipped off to one side. Her raspberry lip gloss had been traded in for a deep, red wine. Her eyes were covered in silver shadow, rimmed with grey eyeliner and black mascara that gave her a smoky, sultry look. Her body was covered in a low-cut silver frock that ended above the knee. It sparkled in the lights, shimmering as she twisted and waved. A shy smile graced her face as she thanked those applauding her. Finally, Raye moved to the front, directing Serena towards the stage.

He watched her intently as she moved through the small aisle, shaking hands as she made her way through. He bit down the jealousy that reared every time she shook another man's hand. He tried not to think about the lustful looks some were giving her. He attempted to quell the growing desire. His fingers itched to pull apart her hair and feel it spread it out over him as she lay above him. His body clamored to press against hers, chests and hips and thighs thrusting to that ancient beat. He began to sweat from the pressure of his unleashed desire.

"That certainly was a grand entrance!" Raye exclaimed when she worked her way back to him. She grabbed his elbow. "Come here, I have the best seats in the house." She winked at him. He frowned slightly; her winks always looked more like a wince.

She led him forward to a pedestal on which sat two chairs. Here she could rest while still enjoying the show and not interrupting anyone else's view. He settled next to her, his eyes wandering the room. He could not bring himself to watch Serena under the spotlight. He could not look at her tightly bound blonde hair, sparkling lips, or bright blue eyes.

But then he heard the smack of a microphone turning on and the small gasp of excitement that left her lips. Oh, but he had heard nearly that same sound in his ear not two nights ago. He tried hard not to feel the naked arms that had wrapped around him or the tendrils of hair that always tickled him. He could feel the heat rising in his skin as he remembered the feel of his body pressing into hers, delighting them both as shivers of pleasure ran through them. He pinched his leg, acutely aware of his wife's presence at his side.

"Are you alright?" Raye leaned forward and covered his shaking hands. He gulped, wondering if he was too obvious, if she could see his deception. He clamped down quickly on his panic, seeing only concern in her furrowed brow.

Clearing his throat, he shook his head. "It was a long, exhausting day," he supplied. She nodded at him, patting his hand as the shakes went away. Her fingers curled into his, threading through his digits, and his stomach twisted in discomfort. It was these little signs of support, of affection, that let him known she still cared for him. Even though she hadn't proclaimed her love for him in over four years, there were small things she would do that spoke volumes. Yet, he still couldn't deny the elation that bubbled through him whenever he heard Serena actually say it.

She touched the microphone again, giggling at the pop of static. She turned behind her and motioned to the small band on the stage. They started a jazzy tune, the piano leading the rest of the instruments through the song. Darien wasn't knowledgeable about music or instruments, but he could at least pick out the muted trumpet player and bass thumping out a rhythm.

Serena swayed her hip to the music, one hand holding the microphone at the base. Her other hand swatted the beat against her thigh as she bounced her weight from hip to hip. She smiled gratefully, eyeing the crowd and its adoring expressions. Finally, her mouth opened. She sang a few soulful 'O's, riding the scale from low to high and back down again. She smiled at the applause.

"I still have to warm up," she explained, winking coyly. It was horribly obvious she was anything but rusty. A chuckle echoed through the audience. The melody came around again and she scanned the room with her bright blue eyes.

"You know, most jazz songs or blues songs or any songs deal with relationships," she spoke softly, her melodic voice engaging the audience. "And one of the tracks on my album is no different. Before you get any ideas, I didn't write it. But, I can say that it is something close to my heart. That is, I think I can relate to the feeling."

Her eyes scanned the group of people before her, taking in their expressions. Darien was glad that she had yet to wander her gaze his direction. He was sure she would feel the same impending doom that was welling over him now. He watched her goad and flirt with the crowd. It was funny when she tended to be a shy person. She had told him once that her presence on stage was very different. Her whole attitude changed. She had said once she was up there, under that spotlight, all of her fears drifted away. She was powerful, she was beautiful, and she was somebody. He could see the truth behind that now, as she took control of her destiny and led her audience into her song as she saw fit.

"I don't suppose you want to hear it?" she giggled, leaning forward a bit. She played at shyness, giving the allure of the girl she was off the stage. Her hair fell over her face and she batted her eyelashes from underneath its heavy curtain. Her smile was absolutely devilish. Darien crossed his legs, feeling horribly uncomfortable with this new attitude.

Serena smiled as the crowd applauded. She turned, meeting the eyes of the pianist, and nodded that she was ready. The smile slipped away from her mouth as a new melody began to play. Her eyes took on a soulful expression, filled with the confused anger and sadness he could feel welling within the notes of the music. Her eyes closed as she began singing.

The song was carried by the vocals, the other instruments fading away under the presence of her voice. She wore the pain of the song on her face as she began to sing about waiting for a man. But the words were not those of an idealistic teenager, but those of a grown woman lamenting falling in love with a married man. She bent her knees as the song rose dramatically as she begged her lover not to return to his husband. She cried for him to stay with her, trying to convince him there was no reason to leave. She sang from her heart, more sympathetic of the song's voice than the audience knew. The singer stretched her hand out reaching for the invisible man who held the love of two women.

She closed her eyes as the music slowed. She repeated the last words again, slow and soft, before it all disappeared. The music played in his head, though, as well as her aching voice. He closed his eyes against the guilt that had tripled within him. He had never thought of the consequences of his affair. Well, he had, but he had thrown them to the wind. He had decided for once in his life to give in to temptation. And he had never experienced the love that Serena gave him before. However, he could certainly never experience it after this, after he was aware of the hurt he was causing her and the pain he would cause Raye were she to find out. He had to end it before it got out of control, before it destroyed everything he cherished.

"Wow, she's pretty good," Raye smiled, pressing her cold fingers into his cheek. He tried not to flinch at the sudden touch, opening his eyes to see her face. He wondered, once more, if she suspected him. Did she know of his deceit? He imagined it was printed on his face, in his eyes when they left her and sought out those of Serena who was about to begin another song. She had yet to find him in their corner and for the moment Darien was safe.

"She was able to bring even you into the song. I didn't think you liked jazz."

"I don't," he admitted. He wrung his fingers together, looking at a spot near the ceiling. "But I guess I can appreciate her talent."

Raye nodded, making a sound as though he had grossly downplayed the singer's abilities. He slouched in his chair a bit, sliding down its upholstery as the next song geared up. He swallowed the tears welling in his eyes as he replayed her words and her imploring gaze. He realized, then, how silly it had been for him to think the affair could go on without anyone getting hurt. Only now did he see that there would only be heartbreak even if he stopped it before Raye found out.

He was awakened from his thoughts by the sound of a chair creaking and Raye's dangerous lean as she stood. He reached for her arm and pulled her up, the motion almost mechanical. He had always been there for her, had always defended and supported her. He didn't want that to stop. He wanted to be her husband, the rock that held her up. But, as he peered up at the bowing Serena, he didn't want to give away the love of his life either. He was a terribly selfish man.

Raye pulled him to follow her as she made her way through the throng of people. He reached into a nearby ice chest, grabbing a beer. It would at least help with the sudden dryness that had afflicted his throat. He found Raye's bobbing head of black hair a few paces in front of him and took a few long strides to catch up. He watched her reach out and grab a familiar pale wrist. His breath stopped as an enormous weight pressed into his chest.

"Serenity," Raye pulled the girl forward. She had her face turned down, shyly accepting the thanks of those around her. Her face was stained with a slight blush, most likely amazed at the warm reception of the crowd. She had a blazing smile that lit up her face. It hurt thinking he was staring, trying his hardest not to, but knowing with great pride that one of her greatest dreams was about to come true. And he could barely congratulate her. "This is my husband, Darien Shields. He's a junior partner at Franklin Pediatrics."

Serena's face turned ash white. He almost thought she was going to faint. She did sway on her heels for a moment, but quickly collected herself. Her eyes were still wide, but she appeared to be breathing at least.

She plastered a smile on her face, though it looked more like a grimace to Darien. She turned her gaze to the older woman next to her, unable to look at him any longer. "I didn't realize your husband was so handsome."

Darien felt a knife cutting through his heart, but tried his best not to show the rampant emotions flowing through him. He was still deathly afraid that one small glance and Raye would know. That with one look that lasted too long she would see the love that was in his eyes for this woman who had a bigger piece of his heart than his wife.

Raye laughed and patted his shoulder, missing how stiffly he was standing. She seemed oblivious to the tension building between the two as each repressed their thoughts to keep up the illusion that they had never met. "I'm sure you'll find someone as wonderful as Darien soon enough," she was saying.

"If I could only be so lucky," the blonde choked out, grabbing a cocktail from a passing tray. She drank, desperately wanting to drown herself in the pink liquid but knowing that taking too big a sip would make it clear that she was nervous. She held the glass to her lips until the shaking in her hands had subsided.

"Serenity was a new pledge at Alpha Pi Delta when I was in my last year at the university," Raye was explaining to Darien. She wrapped her arm around the smaller girl, settling her weight on her cane. "We had lots of great times together, didn't we, Sere?"

He washed down the bile rising in his throat with a long draught of the beer in his hand. There was something sickening about Raye using the same abbreviation of Serena's name that he did. He took another swig of his beer, grunting when he noticed it was nearly empty. He would need another soon even though he knew nothing could block out the guilt he felt over his betrayal. Not only had he cheated on his wife, but he had done so with one of her friends. There was a bad taste in his mouth that no amount of alcohol was going to wash away.

"Sere," Raye spoke with concern. "Are you alright?"

Darien tried to stop himself, but still he glanced in her direction. He fought to keep the look free of the genuine concern he felt. Here he was fighting his own demons and he could only imagine how she felt. She was a sickly shade of green and he noticed the slight shake in her hands was back. She explained it only came with nervousness following a performance. She collected herself once again, but he could still see the echoes of horror within her baby blue eyes.

"I'm fine," she croaked, waving off Raye's touch, as if it burned her. Darien bit his cheek as he saw the sparkle of tears filling the corners of her eyes. She blinked a few times, complaining about staring into the spotlight too long. She coughed out a small sob before smiling at Raye.

"I really appreciate what you've done to celebrate my new album." Her voice cracked and Raye pressed a hand to her chest, thinking Serena was crying out of gratitude.

"I'm more than happy to support you," Raye spoke meaningfully. "If there's anything you need, let us know. Neither I nor Darien would hesitate."

A sob climbed out of Serena's throat. Darien could feel one stuck in his nose as well, burning the nostrils. He reveled in the feeling, knowing he deserved so much more pain than this. There was no punishment harsh enough for his sin.

"Thank you so much," Serena squeaked. She dabbed at the corners of her eyes, barely restraining the river in her eyes from running down her face. She looked frantically around. "I'm sorry, where is the bathroom?"

Raye hugged her before pointing the woman down the hallway. She smiled up at her husband. "That's exactly how I remember her. Emotional Serenity. We always joked because it never fit her name." Darien wanted to disagree, tell her that it was because Serena was so passionate, so artistic, that she was able to openly express her feelings. But he couldn't say anything that wouldn't give them away. His mouth formed a thin line, resolutely staying silent as he stood next to her. Raye paused, rolling the shoulder that supported her left side. "But I can understand how she feels. Her destiny is finally coming true." Her words were laced with a wistfulness that they both felt. There were so many dreams they had both forgotten in their years together.

Like loving each other and only each other till death do they part, he reminded himself.

He nodded at her, wondering if he was beginning to look the same sickly green. Raye was pulled away by another guest and he could not hide the sigh of relief that pressed through his lips when he was alone with his thoughts. He made his way to the ice chest again, fumbling inside for a particular brand. He tossed his other in a trashcan, enjoying the loud clank as it fell against the other bottles. He twisted the cap and drank heavily of the cold beverage. But no matter how much he drank, he could not swallow the guilt that sank like a stone in his gut.

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His head still hurt from the hangover and the coffee was not relieving him of the fatigue in his muscles. He groaned, rubbing at the headache behind his eyes. They had carefully avoided each other most of the night. When he was asked to bring her coat and they were left with a moment alone, she had said to meet her here. He had agreed, knowing already that their tryst had to end.

And yet, he could not decide what pained him more: leaving her behind—all the honest love and passion they had shared—or his betrayal of the one woman who had always been a constant presence in his life. He was a man divided in two. One man had a cozy life that was routine and filled with amiable companionship. The other man was still experiencing new emotions he had never felt before and new adventures that most people took for granted. He had a duty to Raye; he had always been her strength and had been glad to be so. But the love in his heart was devoted to Serena. She made him feel and experience the world around him in a way he never had before. She had opened his eyes to what he had never had and rekindled hopes he hadn't had since he was young.

He sighed, pressing his face into his hands.

"Tell me," she leaned toward him. She whispered as though their small niche was filled with people. "What happened to her legs?"

Darien buried his head deeper in his hands. His fingers pulled his hair tight, relieving the pounding sensation in his head. A sound fell from his lips that sounded like something between a groan and a sob. It seemed this memory haunted him everywhere. He drank the last of his coffee, clearing his throat with its cold liquid.

"Four years ago," he started. He had to clear his throat again to get his voice to come out fully. "Four years ago, Raye and her assistant were in a car accident. The assistant was driving and she swerved to miss a deer. The roads were slick that morning and they hit a patch of black ice. The car slid into the opposing two lanes."

Serena's mouth had slowly fallen open as he recounted the story. He watched her carefully as she listened to one of the worst ordeals in his life.

"There were hit once, spun to the side, and then hit once more before the car made it across the road and hit a tree." He licked his lips, looking away as the memory played before his eyes.

"They both had to be cut out of the car. Her assistant was unconscious at the scene. She made it to the hospital but the internal bleeding was too much. She had been on the side where the second impact had happened.

"She lasted about two hours. Her family had some time to say goodbye to her, but she never regained consciousness before she died."

"And Raye?" her voice echoed in that dark space.

He wrung his hands, scratching his nose as it burned. They never talked about it anymore, but the pain had not subsided even after four years.

"Raye had many lacerations and extensive bruising. A few nerves in her back had been damaged. At first, she could barely wiggle her toes, but eventually some motor function returned. She did physical therapy for two years to get where she could walk with the cane."

He closed his eyes. He was trying to fight the inclination, but he knew she deserved to know everything that had been lost that day. He had never hidden anything from her in the short time they had known each other. And now, with their relationship at its end, he saw no reason to now. He swallowed, ready to relate the day that his hopes and dreams had died as well.

"At the time, Raye was six months pregnant." His voice broke and he grimaced. His throat ached as his eyes watered, but he continued on. "We'd had a few miscarriages before then. This baby was the only one she had carried past the first trimester." He made a vain attempt to remove the moisture on his cheeks. "She lost the baby. Possibly something about the seatbelt and the impact; the doctors never could find what specifically caused her death."

"Her?" she whispered and he could hear the tears flowing down her face, too. He continued to speak, trying his best to drown out the silence that had followed her question.

"We hadn't even known yet. We were going the next week to find out," he shook as a sob wracked his body. He pressed one of his hands against his face once again. He thought about that little girl every day. He thought about her when another patient bounced into his office. He thought about her every time he walked past the two rooms whose doors always stayed closed in their home. The two rooms were upstairs, along the same hallway as their master bedroom. These had been purposefully chosen so that those nights when their children would get scared it would only be a few paces to reach the protective embrace of their parents. He shook his head, knowing those days were never to come.

"It was hard for Raye, for a long time. She and her assistant had been very good friends. Losing the baby and the movement in her legs really sent her into a bout of depression. There were days I didn't want to leave her for fear she would hurt herself.

"She became very committed to getting better. As she sat in the waiting rooms she talked with the other patients who had periodic physical therapy. She was really taken in by their stories and soon decided to volunteer her time to a local organization that helps those who have suddenly been afflicted with disabilities. Those people really helped heal her mind of the shortcomings of her legs. She had always been good at organizing, and soon she became the event coordinator for the organization."

He tapped his fingernails, still unable to look at Serena's face to gauge her response.

"I thought that after the first year she would be ready to try again. We'd always been heartbroken from the miscarriages, but we had also been determined." He blushed shyly. "We hadn't done anything since the accident. I brought it up on our anniversary, that maybe since she was getting around better we could try again. She had taken the last one farther than the others, so the odds were in our favor."

Finally, he met her tear-filled gaze. His eyes filled with a pain and disappointment too heavy to carry for the last four years. "She didn't want to try again. _Ever_. She didn't even want to do anything to possibly get pregnant. She was frantic when I mentioned it—nearly having a panic attack.

"That's when things started to change. We were no longer intimate." He watched a small blush spread across her cheeks. He could read her thoughts: no wonder he had been so eager to please, so in need of releasing his pent up passion. He dared to smile but it fell off his face before it had time to really form. "There were weeks we couldn't speak to one another. There was no way we could speak about her fear and my disappointment. We eventually began to go back to normal as far as routine was concerned. We were both busy people most of the time. I was just starting in the practice and she had all the events to plan and attend. We'd always enjoyed each other's company, and her events brought us together again."

She fidgeted as the silence filled the air between them. She was struggling against a response that bubbled inside her. He waited for it to overcome her, possibly already guessing what it would be and wishing he was wrong at the same time.

She finally lost her resolve. "Do you still want children?"

He fisted his hands before pressing them into his eye sockets. His feet bounced a bit. "Do you know," he whispered as his voice cracked again. He didn't realize he had this many tears within him. He couldn't even begin to count how many times he had cried in front of her. When had she become his strength? She was the one he ran to for support, a sickening irony to the way he supported Raye.

"Do you know how hard it is to treat kids all day and come home to an empty house? We had bought it for our family. There are two empty rooms upstairs that we locked years ago. I spend every day with other people's children, knowing that I can never have any of my own. I comfort babies as they get their shots, check toddlers to make sure they're getting enough vitamins, and give the older ones lollipops when they're good in the office. I treat the rising teenagers like the adults they will soon be. I watch the love in their parents' eyes and know that I can never experience that. It's been one of my greatest dreams and I will never see it.

"I both love and hate my job. I wanted to be in pediatrics because I love children. Yet, every day I'm reminded of what I can't have."

He felt her hand press into his shoulder and he wrapped his hand over hers. He held to that single connection between them, desperately soaking in the relief that came radiating off of her. Nevertheless, that same touch filled him with guilt knowing what a cruel pleasure it was to reach for this woman. He was leading them both on. Though he appreciated her support, he knew he had to stop depending on it.

"It's not right that I put all of this on you," he admitted.

"We all need someone else's support some time, Darien."

"No," he shook his head. He could feel his hand gliding over her arm and the shiver of comfort that snaked down his spine was quickly followed by a feeling of repulsion. He still yearned for her touch, even knowing it would destroy Raye, and he hated himself for it. "I have betrayed my wife, whom I love," he explained. "No, don't argue with me." He was almost disappointed that she hadn't started to disagree with him. But it was good for her to be resigned as well, he reminded himself, even as his heart was breaking. He forced the words from his mouth, believing them but wishing that there was some other life where everything they had done didn't have such horrible consequences. All they had only loved each other, and yet it was the worst thing either of them could have done.

"I made a vow to her and I will honor it." His mouth went dry as a bad taste filled it. "I've forgotten my responsibilities recently but I can't be so careless anymore."

She turned the hand in his grasp, squeezing his hand but not threading her fingers through his. "I understand." Her voice sounded so small to his ears. He didn't know if he imagined the sound of her own heart splitting in two. "Before I knew it was Raye, I was able to hate her for abandoning you and leaving you lonely. I could hate her for not loving you as I do. I was jealous because she had you and I knew if something happened you would always choose her. No," she pressed a finger to his lips. "Don't lie to me. Not when we're about to end this and you're going to go to her. I've always known that just because I had your heart did not mean that I could have the life with you that she has. I can't compete with her."

She stood, pulling down her sweatshirt. She held out a callous hand, rough from the odd jobs she did between gigs. Her hands were so different from Raye's soft, manicured hands. He cast those thoughts out of his mind. This would be the last time he would see her like this, a lover in all aspects of the word. He savored the moment, allowing himself this last pleasure to infuse him with the strength to walk back into the life he had had.

He stood, reaching for the offered hand. He pulled her forward gently and hugged her tightly. They stepped apart and he leaned down to kiss her but stopped himself. She smiled at him, a sad, knowing smile. He nodded, silently agreeing that a kiss could never end their affair. It would only serve to remind them of what they had left behind and possibly foster the false hope that something could still be between them.

"I'm going to quit at the coffee shop, so you don't have to stop going there." He nodded once again. She looked at him, lingering for a moment. "Don't let yourself get lonely."

He half-smiled. "Don't worry about me. Really."

She nodded and turned. He watched her walk out without turning back. He slowly sat back down, unfolding the paper to the financial section.

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Food for thought:

The title is also from a song by Earl Thomas Conley. The song that Serena sings is "Stay" by Sugarland. In keeping with the new copyright rules here I couldn't post it within the story. The one akward paragraph attempting to explain the song and its significance is the result of this :P It also seems I've done a good job with keeping to Darien/Serena/Raye instead of the Japanese names. There was something in this that I couldn't attribute it to Usa/Mamo. Granted, there was a great American slant as far as the other's professions, etc. :D

Rarely do I feel the need to explain the concept or idea behind a story. But, this one I feel requires a look into what I was trying to accomplish so that the readers can let me know if I actually succeeded:

This story was an effort to show that affairs are not always mean-spirited. And that no one really benefits because everyone gets hurt. Anyway, it was just a writing exercise for me to see if I could portray an adulterous man in a light that is not completely sinful. I hope I was able to make it so that there was more than just hate and anger directed towards Darien, but maybe some sympathy. Like those villains that aren't really that evil but still do bad things. That was truly my only intention and the biggest reason why this is written mostly from Darien's POV (limited third). I do not plan on doing anything more with this as I believe it ended as best it could. If the roles were reversed, and Darien had cheated with Raye I can guarantee those who are faithful to Darien/Serena pairings (and I am one of those, I assure you) would applaud him returning to her side. But that wasn't the idea behind this and I intentionally used Serena as the lover for the exact same reason.


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